


Remembrance

by SpaceMalarkey



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-12-26 11:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18281576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceMalarkey/pseuds/SpaceMalarkey
Summary: Something is wrong.He has felt off all morning, like there is a buzzing sound at the edge of his mind, slowly growing louder. Wild doesn’t understand. Maybe he has slept too long today? He usually feels a bit fussy then. But that can’t be it, he has slept rather well, and he woke earlier than any of the others. He even made a well-balanced breakfast earlier, and he had wrestled with Wind and annoyed Warrior along with Legend. He had been feeling fine earlier.What could be wrong?





	1. Loss

Something is wrong.

He has felt off all morning, like there is a buzzing sound at the edge of his mind, slowly growing louder. Wild doesn’t understand. Maybe he has slept too long today? He usually feels a bit fussy then. But that can’t be it, he has slept rather well, and he woke earlier than any of the others. He even made a well-balanced breakfast earlier, and he had wrestled with Wind and annoyed Warrior along with Legend. He had been feeling fine earlier.   
What could be wrong?

He dodges a sword and stabs at a bokoblin.   
There are so many of them. _Wonder where they came from?_  
The sound is louder now. It almost sounds like the sea in a storm. It's deafening. It mutes every other sound.

_That can’t be good. Can’t be just from the battle._

It becomes unbearable. He can’t think, can barely feel his knees hitting the ground, his hands gripping his head. He can’t hear his own choked screams.   
His head is hanging low, his eyes closed. Or are they?   
_I dont know._

It hurts. It hurts so much.   
_What is happening?_

He can feel someone grabbing his chin, tilting his head up. A voice telling him to open his eyes. _It sounds familiar...  
_He opens his eyes, obeying the voice immediately. A face fills his vision. An older man, with markings on half of his face. He looks troubled, worried.   
_Why?_

It’s hard to understand him. It feels like he should know this person, but he can’t think. He can’t remember anything.  
"Wild? Please, tell me what is wrong." The man has moved closer. He is moving his thumbs across his cheeks in a comforting gesture.   
_Wild?_

He can’t do anything other than stare through the pain. His head is so full. It feels like it’s packed, stuffed with thoughts and feelings and pain. He tries opening his mouth to speak but shuts it close again quickly.

_It’s fading. Oh, gods no, don’t take this from me, not again. Please not again!_

The pain is gone now, but he feels so empty. Where did everything go? Where is he? _  
_ The man in front of him is waiting patiently, stroking his hair soothingly. __  
I think I like this person.

"Wild?" the man tries again. "Are you alright?"   
Yes, this man is nice, he decides. His single eye is kind, his aura is calming. Strong. Safe.   
_I want him to stay, please wont he stay._

He opens his mouth to answer, and is surprised to find his voice is rough, and it hurts slightly to use. Almost like he has been screaming.   
_"I don’t know,"_ he answers, because that’s the truth. He doesn’t know anything.

He looks up and finds the pain has vanished now. The man looks stricken, as if he has said something wrong. Oh, no that won’t do. He didn’t want to worry the nice man.   
Though, he can’t keep calling him _this man_ , that’s just rude. He has got to have a name. Most people do. He wonders for a moment if he himself is a nameless person. He has a lot of questions.   
He tries speaking more.

_"Who are you?"_


	2. Sparks of memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyrule knows fear, he knows how it feels to be powerless, and Hyrule refuses to ever let that be his reality ever again.

The air has changed.

It used to be light. Roomy. Filled to the brim with laughter and warmth. It used to be easy to breathe, to calm himself down and think things through. The air used to be an ally.

Now it feels heavy, oppressive. Like a crushing force that fills every inch of his lungs and suffocates him. _Maybe I can cut it or defeat it like any other monster._

Hyrule doesn’t need to look at the others. He knows what he will see. Troubled faces, sadness, distress, and absolute confusion. He has seen his precious people show emotions he never wanted to see reflected back at him. _Like looking in a mirror._

Even the people he normally looks to in moments like these seem to be no help. Warriors seems to have entered a state of shock, unable to act like he usually would. Which is concerning, considering that the captain has seen so much and dealt with so many unfavorable situations over years of service. Yet no amount of experience gained in war would ever prepare him for the crushing reality they now face. Nothing but silence and an inability to react, to figure out how to move forward to a brighter future. _It’s like we are stuck here. Trapped. I don’t like it._

Time is seated on a rock with his face in his hands, rubbing slowly and sighing often and deeply. It looks like he is trying to figure out how to tackle this new situation, but he fails to find a solution. His body is painfully tense, Hyrule thinks. He watches as Time rests his arms on his knees and clenches his fists, like trying to grasp some sort of idea, some sort of reason as to why this has happened, but he comes up empty every time. Frustration grows and is forced out in a shaky exhale. The older hero keeps grasping for unobtainable wisdom even though failure is inevitable. _How can anyone fix this?_

Twilight has decided his time is best used patrolling, safely away from the problem. Hyrule suspects that he doesn’t know how to deal with this new reality. They never foresaw anything like this happening. The rancher was used to problems he could solve practically, preferably by punching or hugging. Hyrule really didn’t like how he kept everyone at arm’s reach, didn’t like how the other was isolating himself and letting all the negative thoughts grow. He knew of isolation, knew of loneliness and the way it can warp one’s thoughts, creating enemies that go unseen. _Only your own voice, tearing you apart with all its might and no reason to hold back._

The wanderer can feel a strong pull at his heart, a call beckoning him onwards. He obeys, standing and feeling his feet moving. Past Four and Wind, sitting curled up and talking in hushed voices, discussing what to do next, how to talk to him, how to behave around him now. The two smallest of their number looking smaller than usual. _Like they are hiding, desperately trying to protect one another from the same fate._

Past Legend and Sky, flicking through tomes upon tomes of old knowledge, desperate to find any answers. Trying to rely on wisdom that they are not graced with. _Wisdom, in place of courage._

Hyrule knows. Knows he isn’t like the others. Knows he is not a warrior, or a soldier. He is a wanderer, someone born into a desolate world where people lived in caves, in terror of the outside world filled with monsters. Hyrule knows fear, he knows how it feels to be powerless, and Hyrule refuses to ever let that be his reality ever again.  
He isn’t wise, using only simple wit and what he has learned on his journey.  
He isn’t powerful, using magic and items in place of acrobatics and physical strength.  
For all that he isn’t, he is something else. Brave.  
His is the virtue of courage, of the might he feels when the fear threatens at the edge of his mind, yet he faces them anyway. He never runs away, never hides, never cowers in the darkness, safely away from the world’s problems. He never has.  
So why would he now?

He turns his eyes towards the person who is the hardest to look at, and the easiest to avoid in this moment. The Hero of the Wild is sitting on a log further away from the fire, his cloak hiding his body from the world.  
The wanderer can see confusion in those piercing blue eyes, can see the fear of remembering nothing, yet the curiosity shines through as he looks around and takes in all the noises of the wilds around them. In a way, he already looks comfortable where he is; in the wilderness, surrounded by life. There is no doubt in Hyrule’s mind that his friend has already decided that nature is where he belongs, even without any memories. He truly suits his title.

The boy looks up at him as he makes his way over to him. Hyrule thinks he has never looked his age more than he does now. His eyes are wide in wonder and curiosity, considering the fact that one of the others who share his name deemed him worthy to approach. He holds himself differently, back tensed slightly in anticipation; in case he needs to run away. Yet he waits patiently until Hyrule has made it all the way over and sits down next to him. The air feels even more dense here, right next to him. The wanderer feels confusion seep in. Why does it feel so heavy here, right next to Wild?  
He turns his head and immediately he sees why. Everyone is seated in such a way that lets them see Wild at all times. No one sits near him, yet everyone is watching constantly, and the weight of their stares gather around their amnesiac. It feels like they are isolating him and observing him, like some new type of monster that needs to be studied for weaknesses.

Hyrule huffs and turns to look at Wild. The way he is curling into himself, hunching his shoulders to look more threatening than he probably is. The way his eyes dart around to take in every detail around the camp, like someone looking for an escape. No, Hyrule doesn’t like this. How could they have ignored this?  
“Hey, Wild?” he speaks softly, keeping his body language slow and clearly visible so as to avoid startling him. “How are you feeling?”  
Wild stares at him, blinking a few times before he answers in a meek voice.  
“I don’t know… exactly” he fidgets in place and furrows his brows. “I feel like they don’t like me?”  
“Because they all sit far away from you and keep looking at you like you are some sort of freak, right?” Hyrule raises his voice a bit, hoping that the point will come across through the annoyed tone of his voice. The others have the decency to blush and look away when he meets their gaze with a glare of his own. He feels so ashamed of them.  
Wonder if this is how Time feels most of the time?

Wild makes a small huffing sound, but there is less tension in his shoulders now that there aren’t so many eyes on him.  
“Right, thank you”.  
He looks down in his lap, where the Sheikah Slate glows a bright blue and orange. The amnesiac flips through it with a hesitation that can only mean he has no recollection of the item. It’s bizarre to see him rediscovering a tool he so frequently uses, how he flips it to drink in all the details on the small screen. “What is this thing anyway?” he muses, less disturbed by Hyrule’s presence now that he has a glowing distraction.  
“It’s a Sheikah Slate, or so you told me when we met. And before you ask, I have no idea how it works, but it’s not magic apparently.”  
“What does it do?”  
“Well, normally you use it for storage? I think? But you use it to take a lot of pictographs, and you also write stuff on it sometimes, or so you say. I have never seen what you write, but you have showed me pictos before”  
“Pictographs?”  
It seems Wild hasn’t changed much after all. In his curiosity, he has completely abandoned his defences and any trace of nervousness over his situation had given way to wonder. It fills Hyrule with such a powerful feeling of glee, like his best friend has never been affected by this strange, sudden amnesia. In his distant mind, a thought supplies the name of this feeling.  
Hope.

The smile comes easy to him, and he can feel the aura around their side of the camp losing its weight slowly. He describes the pictographs to Wild the best he can without understanding how the slate is able to create such images. Wind and even Time have pictoboxes that can be explained, but the slate is a mystery to him still. Wild seems very intrigued, judging by the way his body comes to lean sideways into Hyrule’s own as they stare down at the ancient Sheikah tech.  
They eventually find the album function and flip through some of the pictos, giggling at some of them. The wanderer hasn’t seen all of them yet, and Wild can be quite the pictographer when he wants to be. Some of the images show beautifully angled landscapes, or detailed shots of some plants that glow in the dusk. Others are downright silly, like the one of Legend frozen in midair as he is struggling to stay on his feet on the ice. His face is twisted in a scream and his eyes are widened in a look of utter horror.

There are so many, Hyrule realises. So many images safely stored in the not-magic device of their journey, their daily lives, their silly antics that has Time shake his head and huff with a small smile on his face. Images that show how serene Twilight looks in the light of an early morning. Legend and Warriors snarking at each other. Wind on Four’s shoulders as they try to make one functional adult Hylian and wearing Wild’s cloak to conceal their true identity as two people. Somehow Wild has managed to capture and save so many moments that Hyrule can’t even remember. Then, a picto Hyrule can remember.  
An image of him and Wild in a dimly lit room, holding a lantern and a key for the slate to capture. Both of them look like they have gone through an ordeal to get the small key, yet they are both smiling. Memories flood him, and he smiles fondly.  
What a shit day that was.

He chuckles and opens his mouth to speak, but no sound escapes him. Where to start? How do you explain your close friendship if your other half doesn’t remember you? Is it wise to push your own feelings onto someone who has lost everything? Do you matter right now, in the face of this harsh reality?  
Hyrule bites his lip and tears his gaze from the image on the slate. He doesn’t want to look at a static image of a person that has become one of his most important people. It feels disconnected, wrong. Like Wild has died, and the clearing they find themselves in is a funeral in progress. The stern faces surrounding them and the gloomy atmosphere hanging over the camp make him feel like the person next to him has vanished forever, replaced by an empty shell.  
Hyrule doesn’t want to feel like that. They owe it to Wild to act differently, to love him no matter which state he is in.

“You were… really restless that day” Wilds voice, soft as always, cuts through the silence. He speaks slowly, as if he is navigating through the fog of his own mind. “You kept walking in circles, and you looked like you were about to rip out your own hair because you were so riled up”.

Hyrule feels himself numbly look up and stare at his friend, but the other isn’t looking at him. Wild is staring wide eyed at the image, its glow lighting up his face. There is a spark there, something stirring within his gaze, struggling to break free.  
“Then you… grabbed my hand and… I…”  
“You told me we could just leave these sorry sods behind and go on an adventure, just the two of us” he hears himself speak up. Wild nods slowly before he falls silent again.

Hyrule remembers that day vividly, remembers how badly he itched to just run away, just leave the others behind and blow off some steam. His wanderlust tends to hit hard and escalate quickly. He can remember Wild noticing and moving over to him to calm him down. Remembers grabbing his arm in a desperate attempt to describe the demanding feeling. Remembers how he didn’t have to, because his best friend already knew, and could feel it himself.

Hyrule remembers how dark the dungeon they stumbled upon was. How he had to constantly hold a lantern in one hand. Wild had retrieved a flameblade from his slate which he immediately broke when it collided with a vire’s skull.  
He can remember hearing him curse in the darkness behind him and yelp as he rolled out of the way of an attack. The battle was short, but there were many more rooms to discover and explore. Something that had both of them eagerly jog up to the door and move further into the dungeon.

Hyrule remembers the feeling of Wild’s grin as they kept on going, like he carried a piece of pure happiness with him. Remembers how it felt to have his arms slung around him in a sideways hug, like he belonged in that happiness. Remembers the pat on the back he would receive in thanks when he killed something Wild had never seen before, like Hyrule mattered.

They had taken the picto right before the final room, Hyrule holding up a small key that would surely fit in a locked chest. He finds himself wishing they had delayed it just a few moments when they were about to open the chest containing the reward for their struggles. The way Wild had laughed so loudly and merrily at the small note with the words _Your reward is in another castle_ rings through his memories. He never seemed to be annoyed with Hyrule’s antics or the spontaneous adventures, no matter how unrewarding they might turn out to be. Wild always comes along, happy for the journey and the experiences. Always.

Hyrule feels a pat on his back and feels himself come back to reality. Something has changed while he was lost in his own mind, he notices. The air doesn’t feel heavy anymore, the colors seem brighter, the fire feels warmer. He can feel the gentle breeze, granting him comfort and clearing his head. He feels light, free, alive.

Wild is looking at him, slate held in one hand and a light in his eyes that weren’t there before.  
“Why so glum, Magic man?” he looks exhausted, yet he smiles at him like he always does.  
_Magic man_.  
Wild’s unique nickname for Hyrule, and Hyrule alone.

The wanderer feels the shocked silence wash over the entire camp before he throws his arms around his friend, hugging him tightly and laughing merrily. He doesn’t care how it looks to the others, how crazy he most sound like. There is only one thing that matters now, one thing that fills his chest with the sweet flutters of hope.

Wild remembers him.


End file.
